


Tough Cookies

by misura



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Clint Barton's Farm, Gen, Minor Clint Barton/Laura Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "Hey," Clint said, "relax, will you? It's cookie dough, not C-4."





	Tough Cookies

Natasha glared at the lump of harmless looking material in front of her. As had happened the previous five times she had done so, it failed to oblige her by turning into anything other than what it looked like.

"Hey," Clint said, "relax, will you? It's cookie dough, not C-4."

"I wish it was C-4. I would know what to do with C-4."

Clint chuckled. "Well, in that case: pretend it's C-4. I mean, c'mon. Didn't you take that job at that bakery that one time? Sure, it was a cover, but you must have picked up _some_ stuff."

"They made wedding cakes," Natasha said. "Wedding cakes. Not cookies."

Clint frowned. "Are we talking about the same bakery? I mean the one with that guy - what was his name again? Francois? Francesco? Frank?"

"Roberto," said Natasha. "He liked redheads."

"Not Roberto," Clint said. " _Liked_ redheads? You _killed_ him? I kind of liked that guy."

"He died of natural causes, and you didn't like him. Said he looked like a creep."

"Oh right." Clint's expression brightened. "That guy. Good. I mean, you say 'natural causes', you mean ..."

"Not in front of the kids, huh?" Natasha flashed him a grin.

Clint shrugged. "Laura's not crazy about the murder stories either, but, you know, she gets it. We kill bad guys. It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it, and if not me, who would have your back when things get a little rough, huh?"

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"What, not even a little crack about how you're the one having my back, instead of the other way around? I practically gave you that one. Not going soft on me, are you?"

"I'll leave that to Laura," said Natasha. "She's got more patience."

"Funny, that's the exact same thing she said about you." Clint sighed. "Look, it's cookie dough. You just ... turn it into a funny shape or something. Like I did right here."

Natasha squinted. "An oddly shaped hand grenade?"

"A dog. It's obviously a dog. It's got four legs and a tail, see?"

"Right," Natasha said. "A dog. You thinking about getting one? Could be useful."

"Nah. Kids'd probably spoil it rotten," said Clint. "How about you try for something simple?"

"When did _that_ ever work out?"

Clint shrugged. "Can't say about you, but it seems to be working out kind of okay for me. Those times when I get to enjoy it, at least, but hey. It's good to have something to come home to. No offense."

"None taken. Glad you have someplace to be when I don't have time to keep you out of trouble."

"Well, you're here right now, so - " Clint frowned. "Is that a tank?"

"It's a dog house," said Natasha. "For your dog cookie. See? It's got a roof."

"Looks more like a gun turret."

"Which one of us worked at a bakery, you or me? Two times, even, now that I think about it."

"Three," Clint corrected. "I mean, it was only for five minutes and you ended up demolishing the place, but it still counts. You got me that muffin basket, remember? Those were some good muffins. Hey, how about we try making some of those tomorrow? It'll be fun."

"Sorry, after today, I'm pretty sure I'm all baked out."

"I'll have Laura talk you into it," Clint said.

"Playing dirty, are we? Just remember two can play that game, Barton."

"Ooh, scary." Clint grinned. "Seriously, Nat? What's the worst you think you can do, huh? Anything you think needs doing around the house, I'm game. Try me. New roof? I'm up there before you can tell me twice. Planting a vegetable garden? Got the seeds and plants right here, and I'll love every minute of putting 'em into the ground."

"How about another trip to Disneyland?"

"You wouldn't."

"I might," Natasha said.

"You push this, you know the gloves're going to come off, right? No more Mr Nice Guy."

"Ooh, scary."

Clint groaned. "Wasn't just me who almost got killed last time we went there. Have a heart, Nat."

"Truce?" Natasha offered. "You don't bring up baking again, I don't bring up another trip to see Mickey."

"Done." Clint looked relieved. "Now, let's get these things into the oven."


End file.
